Battle Report: Smash and Grab at the Narco Den

The battle for control of the Narco Den saw the Bitches of Battle clash with the fanatical forces of Barry Hood’s Barry Men, a Helot Chaos Cult determined to defend some valuable crates of goods.

The Escher made their intentions clear from the start—subtlety was off the table. A well-placed grenade from their launcher exploded into a cluster of cultists, sending them diving for cover and disrupting the defensive line. From that moment, the Bitches of Battle pressed forward, guns blazing, keeping the Helots pinned behind cover as they advanced.

But the cultists were not so easily broken. From across the map a single well-placed bullet struck a sister, dropping her to the ground. This sudden and brutal counterstrike shook the resolve of the grenade launcher-wielding Carbi P, who had been pivotal in the opening attack. Rattled and on edge, she hunkered down behind cover, unable to bring herself back into the fight for several minutes.

Soon the battlefield split into two distinct engagements:

One Escher fighter found herself locked in a slow-burning duel with a Chaos cultist armed with lasgun wielding Other Barry. Each shot forced the other into cover, each wound chipped away with no decisive blow. It was a battle of attrition that neither fighter could win outright.

On the other side, Deathmaiden Lisa Left Eye showed why she was feared, cutting down a cultist with her stiletto swords before turning to face another foe. But her opponent, Dirty Barry, levelled a shotgun at point-blank range and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared, the Deathmaiden stood unharmed, an eerie outline of bullet holes surrounding her in the walls and outlined her mohawk perfectly. The gods of fate—or perhaps something more sinister—had guided the shots away.

Just as the Escher seemed to be gaining ground, Hot Barry saw his moment. The deranged flamer-wielding zealot had been carving notches into his arm for every soul he burned. With a wild grin, he sprinted into the open, unleashing a torrent of fire into the advancing Escher warriors.

The flames consumed two of them, their screams echoing through the ruins. Barry etched two more marks into his charred flesh as the Escher dropped and rolled about to extinguish the flames.

While Barry’s fire dominated the field, another cultist became a legend in his own right. Wielding a crude but deadly chain glaive, he stood alone as Escher bullets rained down upon him. Shot after shot found their mark, but none could break his faith—or his armour and he stayed on his feed to face them down. Where a sane fighter would have sought cover, this mad devotee kept moving forward, deflecting bullets with sheer fanaticism. When he finally reached the Escher lines, he cut down them down, his glaive carving through them with brutal efficiency.

The Bitches of Battle had seen enough. With their forces dwindling, their best weapons out of ammo or covered in soot, they cut their losses and fled into the ruins. As an eerie quiet settled over the battlefield, a sharp cry cut through the silence. An Escher juve, barely conscious, stirred from where she had fallen. But it wasn’t pain that made her scream—it was the cold realisation that her limbs were bound, and her captors were already dragging her into the shadows of the underhive.

Aftermath

The Narco Den is now firmly in the hands of Barry Hood’s Barry Men, their victory marked in blood and flame. And as the dust settles, one question remains:

What fate awaits the captured Escher juve?

The Helots of Chaos have a dark reputation and we have yet to know her fate. Whether she is to be sacrificed to Grandfather Nurgle, converted, or worse… that is a tale yet to be told. The Bitches of Battle will not take this loss lightly. Their pride, their warriors, and perhaps even their very souls are now at stake. A reckoning is coming. But for now, the Helots revel in their triumph, their faith in the dark gods rewarded once more.